Longfellow

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Celine Dion, Robert Frost, and Joseph Campbell. Those are the three people that keep coming to my mind and making me think about things. It might seem like an odd assortment of individuals, but they all have one thing in common—they have been encouraging me to be brave and do hard things and all that stuff.

I’m gonna start with Celine Dion and explain her role in all of this “encouragement.”
When I was in high school, one of my best friends was Maggie Brown. We were bonded by our love of Anne Shirley, musicals, alias, and many other things. We also played on the tennis team together and had quite a few classes together. We giggled about boys together and all that good stuff. Our love of Alias inspired us to learn Morse code so we could pass secret messages in class. Let me just tell you, passing codes in Morse code is not that time efficient, but you feel super legit doing it. One of those “many other things,” that we shared a love for was actually a person. And that person is Celine Dion. We were big fans and we got to go see Celine’s show in Vegas (just a fun little fact that on our road trip to Vegas, we actually watched Alias in the car). Everything about the trip was awesome, and Celine is just such an inspiration. She is always there when you need her—be it for a dance party, a long car ride, a bad break-up… This week she has been there for me with this reminder…

It's a
weird music video, but you get the idea. Hopefully. “What do you say to taking
chances? What do you say to jumping off the edge?” These past few weeks… or
past few months.. this past year… let’s go with that! This year was one of
those years where I had to answer the question: “What do I say to taking
chances?” Am I going to stay in my comfort zone or am I going to try new
things? Am I going to push myself? Or am I going to stick with the status quo?
One of my esteemed friends asked me that recently, and I thought it was a very
apt description of my current situation. Am I going to stick with what I have
known? Am I going to stay in Provo? Or am I going to Boston? Or elsewhere?

As I
almost broke down crying in Smith’s market the other day, I realized that as
much as I might want to stay here—stay home—that isn’t going to help me grow as
much. And yes, my almost breaking down in embarrassing sobs near the apple
cider was a real thing. The apple cider had nothing to do with it, though it is
a very nostalgia-inducing drink. I kept it together, but only until I got home.
And when I got home, I listened to this song and cried...

I’m not dramatic at all. My mother would tell you that too.
“Tara? Oh no, Tara is not dramatic in the slightest.” We shall pretend that it
adds to my charm… or something… or that it makes life more exciting? Just
pretend with me, here!

Anyway, as I was making my decision, I started into the
whole “Why the heck did I even apply for this in the first place?!” I tried to
blame my mom for letting me, but that didn’t go over very well because in her
version of the story, “She tried to talk me out of it.” Or something like that.
She seems to think I’m slightly stubborn and strong-willed. I’m not sure where
she gets that idea from! That is all beside the point, however, because for
some reason I did decide to apply and sometimes I have to remind myself why I applied in the first place.

When I first heard about Teach for America, I was a college
freshman and I already knew that I was going to go into English teaching.
I was (and probably still am) an idealist and believed all of that “be the
change you wish to see in the world” stuff. I believed that education changes
lives and that literacy improves quality of life. I believed the words of Anne
Frank as she said, “Everyone has inside of him a piece of good news. The good
news is that you don’t know how great you can be! How much you can love! What
you can accomplish! And what your potential is!” Anne Frank knew there was
something great within each of us, but so many youth in the world today lack
that same understanding and knowledge of their potential. Every student has
that “piece of goodness,” but they do not always see it. Or worse, others do
not see it in them. As Goethe says, “The way you see people is the way you
treat them, and the way you treat them is what they become.” I still believe
those things and Teach for America is all about helping students across the
nation recognize that they are awesome by giving them the best education possible. I believed all that, and I still do.

But,
realistically, kids everywhere need to hear the good news that they are
awesome. Not just in the “ghettos” and low-income communities of our country.
They also need to hear that in Provo and I’ve sure been doing my best to try
and help my students push themselves and try new things and all that good
stuff, so I was trying to find reasons to stay.

Which
brings me to my Robert Frost segment… I feel like Robert Frost is one of those
poets that everybody loves. I bet there is a very alarming statistic for how
many times some of his poetry has been recited at, like, high school
graduations and stuff. The pessimist in me is all “Yeah! Nothing gold can stay!
You are totally right!” But then the rest of me is just like “But I have
promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep.” So when I’m in the midst of
all these decisions and stuff, I hear Robert Frost’s voice (or some other guy
reading his poems, cuz I can’t claim to actually know what Robert’s voice is
like..) being like, “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood…” And yeah, we all
know, you took the road less traveled and that has made all the difference.
Well, bully for you, Robert Frost. Bully for you. We are all just soooo happy
for you (please note the sarcasm).

As I was
looking at my two roads, I was thinking about the “less traveled road” option
and I started thinking about what the point of taking the road less traveled
would be, or rather, could potentially be. It seems silly to take a road just because it is "less traveled." You have to have a reason!

So I started thinking about this whole idea more and sure, Frost wrote of these two roads, diverging in
a wood. But, he never told us what to do if both roads were an adventure. He
never said what to do if both led to the fulfillment of different hopes and dreams--different end games. Everybody has a different role and a different
responsibility in life and the roads we take lead us to fulfill that destiny.
Or make our destiny. However you choose to look at it. Maybe there will always
be two roads that diverge, but maybe the person we become could be the same, no
matter the road. Frost spoke of the importance of which road we take. I’m no
expert, but I can’t help but feel that instead of talking about the paths and
choices, instead there should be talk about the reason for choosing a path. The
reason for choosing a path is far more important than the actual path. Making
that kind of a choice requires an understanding of self and when we understand
ourselves, we don’t need some path to make the difference for us, because we
can be the ones to make a difference. And the reason we choose a path will make
all the difference. Or maybe Robert was totally right and I just am
overthinking. Which I never do. Ever. Just ask my mom.

And that is where Joseph Campbell enters the scene.
In all of this overthinking, I thought about these two options. And thought about them. And pondered. And prayed. All through the process, I knew it was one of those things that I had to figure out on my own. At least six different times I made the choice and told myself that I was going to Boston. I was determined and knew that it was the most logical of the options (I mean, a masters at Boston University and fulfilling my East Coast dreams?!). But each time I settled upon this choice, I just felt awful and it just didn't stick. Usually when I make the right choice and move forward, the other options sort of fade away and I don't think about them again. This time, however, the other option kept coming back to my mind, making me uncertain. I didn't feel right about Boston, but I didn't feel right about staying. By this point, I was getting a little frustrated. So then I started thinking about other options. Because making a
choice between two options isn’t hard enough, I just figured I would throw
another one into the mix. I’m smart like that (again, note the sarcasm).

Now, in order to tell this properly, I feel like I need to
go back in time a little bit. Rewind, if you will… .A few months before I was
in major decision-making mode, I had this wild idea, a crazy notion, and
thought about applying for a masters program at Oxford. As I was thinking about
doing that, I had this “hallows” and “horcruxes” moment where I realized that I
was wanting to chase hallows, but I really needed to stick with the horcruxes.
If you don’t get the reference, do humanity a favor, go to your local library,
and get yoself a copy of Harry Potter. STAT. And ASAP. I didn’t apply for
Oxford and I wasn’t really sure why I didn’t feel it was right, but I didn’t. Then I went through this month that I like to call October (other people
may or may not call it that too), and, to be perfectly honest, it was a crazy
month for me. And crazy in the “I have no idea what I’m doing with my life”
sort of way. Also the busy kind of crazy. I don’t like using the “r” word, but
the “r” word probably applies. It was a little rough. I was trying to figure a
few things out and though I knew that Heavenly Father was very aware of my
situation, I was not getting too many hints.

So consider that just a little flashback, and now we
are back to the part where I was considering a third option. I was in my
classroom pondering these potential “third options” and then I checked my
email. In my inbox there was an email from a BYU guy that I
had never heard of. Usually I skip over these emails, but this one I actually
looked at. In the email it said something like “You meet some of the basic
requirements for these scholarships and programs, you should think about
applying.” The first one on the list was this Cambridge program. I felt a
thrill in my heart and thought, “Hmm… this is a stretch, but it could maybe be
my third option. Can’t hurt to try.” Maybe not those exact words, but that idea. My application was due like the next week
and everything sort of just fell into place. I felt good about applying and
just went for it. One particular evening, I was having a really hard time
writing and so I went for my usual "writer’s block walk" and had a little
heart-to-heart with Heavenly Father and begged for help. When I got back to my
apartment, I started over and wrote something ten million times better than I
originally had. Miracles are real!

About a week after that, I got this really frightening
email inviting me to an interview. With Cambridge people. Over Skype. Frightening
in the sense that the email was beautifully worded and the phrasing was impeccable and so proper-- I vacillated for
over ten minutes as to whether I should end with “sincerely” or “respectfully”
or some other farewell! Talk about pressure!

I was pretty pumped about just getting an interview,
and I prepared as much as I possibly could. My getting ready routine was
probably a little ridiculous, but I felt pretty prepared going in—or, as well
as one could be prepared for something that they totally aren’t prepared for.
I’ll just be honest in saying that the two ladies that interviewed me were
super intimidating. One was this stoic, firm Russian lady who speak English
with a hint of an accent. The other lady was a little younger and a little more
chipper—British. They both gave nothing away. I got the British lady to smile a
few times and felt pretty accomplished. Then she asked me about Posthumanism
and I felt a little less awesome about making her smile….

The interview ended and it was intense. For reals.
They told me they would be in contact soon. Fast forward a few days (no,
literally, just a few days). I was driving home from some family thing and
I had this moment where it just hit me that I really wanted to go to Cambridge.
I really wanted to study literature, especially ridiculous, impractical
literature. That is my favorite kind. I had always told myself that if I ever
went to grad school at a “big school,” I would study something totally crazy.
Studying literature at Cambridge would be a dream come true. I wanted it real bad.
I have only ever felt that intense longing on one other occasion—and that was a
few days before I opened up my mission call.

I went to bed with a prayer in my heart and I woke up
to an email from Cambridge—I had been accepted. Dreams do come true. And
miracles happen. (Adding to the miracles of the situation, I actually found out
that you can't even apply to both Oxford and Cambridge in the same year. The whole not applying to Oxford thing made a little more sense when I found that out!)

To tie Joseph Campbell into this crazy tale, he wrote
about the monomyth, or hero’s journey, and in this journey, there are these
seventeen different stages for the hero to accomplish their task or challenge
or quest. Or whatever. I’m no hero, but I do think that everybody is the hero
of their own life… so by those standards, I am the hero of my own life. I was
thinking about this hero’s journey and I realized that I went through some of
those stages to get where I am now. But I also realized that I have a few more
stages still. I’m not going to bore you with the parallels and details—but I’m
just telling you now, the applicability of the hero’s journey is a real thing.
You should try applying it to your own life sometime and I think you will be
surprised at how heroic you actually are. If you ever want to talk about the
hero's journey, just give me a call. I love talking about it. It's fascinating
to me. For realsies. (For more information on the hero's journey, you can try
this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monomyth)

Anyway, I’m to this point now where I still have those diverging
roads, and I still have my good intentions and dreams and all the stuff in
between. Whether I end up in Cambridge, Massachusetts or Cambridge, England or Provo, Utah, I'm not sure. But, I have Celine singing to me, reminding me to “take chances.” I
have Frost to encourage me to “take the road less traveled”—while I still maintain that it is important to analyze intentions and the reasons for taking a certain road. I have Joseph
Campbell to remind me that I am a hero in my own life and being in the belly of
the whale and receiving supernatural aid are all part of the journey (along
with all those other steps). Whatever adventure I choose, whatever thresholds I
cross or do not cross, at the end of my story, I just still want to be the hero
that never gave up on the quest.

Saturday, November 1, 2014

I have a lot of things floating around in my mind these days
and I have been having a really hard time putting them all together into a
nice, cohesive, coherent something. Everything is a little messy these days.
And that reminds of a line from a super cheesy, yet awesome, movie that I kind
of love. This young dude that looks a lot like Rolfe (you had better be able to name that musical!) is basically like “It’s
nice being able to skip over the messy bits in life” and then the old,
sage-of-a-grandmother is like “Life if the messy bits.” Can I get an amen?!
Life is the messy bits. Thank you clichéd chick flick for that little nugget of
wisdom.Nugget is kind of an awful word. I just decided that I don't like it.

To help me with getting my brain around some of the mess
that is my life at present… (I just wanted to pause for a second and give
everyone a chance to reflect on their own messy lives for a moment) I have
compiled a list of some of the events and happenings that have made me ponder
and reflect. I was reminded by the Old Testament this week that seven is supposed to be a "perfect" number and JK Rowling decided it was the most magically powerful number... so, of course, my list is to seven.

1.I am going to be “that person” for a second, or
more accurately “that returned missionary,” and use “that phrase” that used to
make me cringe so much. On my mission (and yeah, I used to get so sick of
hearing people say that and I wanted to be like “We get it, you served a
mission. Get over it.” Ah, how little I understood then!) I taught this awesome
individual and she is basically like my soul sister. Her name is Giuditta but I
call her Giudi. When I first met Giudi I could just see her goodness and her
desire to serve and love everyone and I just loved her. Seeing her fully
embrace her membership in the church will always be one of the biggest
blessings of my life. Giudi is now on a mission in England and she is just so
cheery and this week she sent me a talk. This talk was exactly what I needed to
hear and it was funny because in my email to her I didn’t really tell her too
much, but she picked up on exactly what I needed to hear. And I was just so
struck by how great missionaries are and how great she is. It also just made me
think about how Heavenly Father always gives us people in our lives that we can
help and that, in turn, help us. We are all just this big team and this big
family. And Heavenly Father just gave to us all of these wonderful people and
it just made me really grateful for all the people in my life. Which is ironic,
because the talk she sent me was President Uchtdorf’s about gratitude and about
being grateful not for our
circumstances, but being grateful in our
circumstances. Excuse me while I go break into “For Good” from Wicked. Maybe I will even paint my face
green for the occasion.

Which brings me to….

2. Painting my face green would not even be unusual
these days because I am pretty sure I have had to dress up more in the past
month than I have in the last five years of my life. I will try to include some
pictures in the post, but we all know how the whole technology thing works out
for me sometimes… let’s just say though that there have been footie pajamas
involved, sequined 80’s jackets, crazy socks, football jerseys, star wars
attire, mythologicalish stuff (and yep, you caught me. I just made that word
up), twinner outfits, tropical stuff, and for the grand finale, Hogwarts
goodness. Probably the best part was hearing the vice principal come over the
loud speaker and say in his deep, serious tone “Faculty and staff, please
excuse the interruption…” and at this point I’m thinking there is some surprise
meeting or something… then I hear “will all of the teachers wearing footie
pajamas please come to the diamond.” Probably the best announcement I have ever
heard. We had some fun sliding down the halls and racing in our footie pajamas.
I love the people I work with.

And on a related note…

3. I also love my students. Sometimes they
frustrate me and sometimes I wish they could work on their “being quiet skills”
a little bit, but when I think of them individually I just think they are
amusing and entertaining. Except when I want them to turn in their homework and
stuff. Then I’m more like “What the heck!” But that is beside the point. And
most of the time I just feel like this …

A clown. I often feel just like a clown at the front of the
classroom –I’m juggling, while riding a unicycle. I have face paint and a big
red nose and I’m just trying to keep them entertained while they learn. Which
reminds me of this meme that I saw the other day…

Seriously though. I’m like panting, out of breath at the
front because I just sang/danced/tapped my way through a chapter of Tom Sawyer
trying to make it engaging and some kid is in the back chatting with a friend
or raises their hand and asks to use the hall pass… Just part of the job!

4. Another part of the job, though, is that I kind
of get to do whatever I want and I love having that freedom to teach in the way
that I want to. I had a lot of fun these past few weeks trying to get my
students to think outside the box and to start connecting the stories that they
read to the world around them. We looked at art, songs, TV shows and movies and
tried to relate them all back to Tom Sawyer and I love seeing the brilliant
things some of my students come up with.When they actually try to be, they
are quite clever! Here were some of the highlights for me:

I got to use one of my favorite paintings
“Psyche outside of the palace of Cupid”

as we used tried to analyze art and talk
about themes. It was pretty fun to see how once they got thinking, students
could actually come up with some good insights into art and what themes were
being portrayed- connecting it all back to Tom Sawyer, of course! I remember
the first time I saw this painting (it is hanging in the National Gallery), I
was just blown away by it. There was just something about the colors and the
mood and the scene that just really struck me and when I realized that it was
the story of Psyche and Cupid, I loved it even more. I wish I could put to
words what I feel when I look at this, but I won’t succeed. To me this painting
captures everything that is beautiful and tragic about relationships and love.
This painting to me is longing, hope, passion, and everything in between and I
loved being able to use it in class. Even if my students maybe didn’t quite
appreciate it as much as I do… They all had a hard time getting over the fact
that the girl in the painting is a girl. Then, inevitably, somebody would make
the comment of “She is one really muscle-y girl” or something like that. They
were OK with this one, but you should have heard them talking about “The Mona
Lisa!” Let’s just say that they are not fans! At least for the most part.

I also got to use one of my favorite poems,
“The Lady of Shalott.” Which always reminds me of this moment from my life…

And apart from that, we listened to Billy
Joel, Michael Jackson, Bonnie Tyler… among many, many other classic artists.
Many of my students didn’t know who Neil Diamond is. After I wept a little
about that, I enlightened them. And, of course, all of the music and art and
such was to help in the pursuit of knowledge! The best part about English is
that you can literally make anything connect. By the end of the year my
students will be downright geniuses when it comes to connecting songs on the
radio to the books we are reading. At least that is the goal. As I like to
think of it, “Critical thinking” at its finest.

5. I found out this week that I am going to be
teaching “Secondary Humanities” if I accept the Teach for America job. That
means middle school/high school English and history. If you are sitting there
thinking about how perfect that is, you are absolutely correct in thinking
that- it is basically the perfect combination. What I am going to do, I am not
sure. But I still have like… a whole week and a half to decide. No pressure!

6. On a completely unrelated topic, I went grocery
shopping for my mom the other day and on her list she legitimately wrote “2 lbs
hamburger- said w/a pink panther accent.” That made me laugh. My mom is funny. The below clip is for those of you who didn't get the reference.

7.

On an even more unrelated topic… I saw this guy
the other day and his mode of transportation brought a smile to my face.
Especially since I have recently been playing “MASH” with my Wolf pack kids and
this gave me a great new idea for the “mode of transportation” category. When I
was in middle school, it was all about the “couch on wheels." All of you former Mash-ers out there, you totally know what I'm talking about. Even if you pretend you don't. I'm not going to lie, normally I might have a slight case of road rage with such people. The road is for people in cars! But, on this particular day it was just fitting. It was just one of those days.

Yeah, so if any of you have actually made it this far... you have learned wayyy more about my life in the past little bit than you probably ever wanted to. But you are the one who kept reading, so you have nobody to blame but yourself! Just sayin! And the point of these random... well, points, is that life is the messy bits. Sometimes there is no rhyme or reason to what is happening in our lives. Sometimes there are things we can't control. Actually, I would say that often there are things we can't control. And that is okay. Sometimes random things stand out to us and we dress up like other people and carry around wands. And that is okay.

When I think about the messiness that is life, I always think of this message from President Hinckley...

"Anyone who imagines that bliss is normal is going to waste a lot of time running around shouting that he has been robbed. The fact is most putts don't drop. Most beef is tough. Most children grow up to be just people. Most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration. Most jobs are often more dull than otherwise... Life is like an old-time rail journey- delays, sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling bursts of speed. The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride."

Just as Giuditta reminded me this week, it is all about gratitude. And faith. Faith that our Heavenly Father is always there to guide us and that he won't ever leave us alone to deal with the mess. I love how Paolo Coelho describes Heavenly Father's care for us. In The Alchemist, the type of divinity says, "I always appear in one form or another. Sometimes I appear in the form of a solution, or a good idea. At other times, at a crucial moment, I make it easier for things to happen. There are other things I do, too, but most of the time people don't realize I've done them."

The great thing about having Heavenly Father's help in our decision-making is also beautifully described by Coelho: "When someone makes a decision, he is really diving into a strong current that will carry him to places he had never dreamed of when he first made the decision."

When I think about my life five years ago, I certainly didn't picture myself dressing up like Professor Trelawney, setting a fog machine and strobe light in my classroom, reading scary stories and trying to frighten my students on Halloween. That is just one of the many things that I didn't picture for myself. But, Heavenly Father has a big picture for me and I am trying to trust in that as I wade through some of the messy bits!!

Because life is the messy bits and everything will always be OK for those that love God.

Friday, October 3, 2014

There is probably a
reason for that, but I am not going to delve too deeply into that particular
subject. It would maybe just get a little messy and end up with me being lazy
or bad at planning or something like that. Which is why I’m not delving.

Anway… Today I had this
awful realization that it was a new month. That normally might not be such bad
news, but as a teacher it just means one thing—new monthly bulletin board. Seems
like a small thing, right? Wrong-o. I’m telling you, staple removers are a lot
more difficult than you might think! Especially when you have these little
edges of the board that you have to work around. It is seriously a skill. And I have not developed that particular
skill yet.

Staples might not be my
thing, but if I do say so myself, I did do a pretty decent job at sweet-talking
some of the after-school custodial staff into helping me find an X-acto knife!
I just threw in a few, “I’m so sorry to be such an inconvenience” whilst
batting my eyelashes and it worked out pretty well. The knife certainly did
help, but there were still some tough decorative decisions to be made like,
“Should I go with the witch picture or Frankenstein?” or “How many bats should
I place?”

After getting the
bulletin board all ready to go, I looked around the room and noticed tha the
desks needed straightening, the floor had some spots etc. So I basically just
ended up cleaning my classroom.

Now, I might be pretty
good with the custodial staff, but I still haven’t mastered the whole “making
friends with birds and other woodland creatures who then help me with my
cleaning projects” thing. So I basically just had some good, quality thinking
time. These days I feel like most of my thinking is centered on “How can I teach
this effectively” or “How can I teach this so my students won’t hate it.” But I
guess maybe I was a little planned out and instead I just was thinking about my
life. Cue the Gaston voice saying, “Soon she’ll be getting ideas… and
thinking!”

Maybe the fact that I
was decorating bulletin boards made me contemplate my life and previous life
decisions that brought me to this point… just kidding… mostly…

Let’s be real, the
whole “bulletin board” thing was definitely not something I feel like I was
adequately prepared for with that college education... Yeah, so I was all
contemplating my life and some life decisions I have to make and stuff and, as
usually happens when I’m thinking about things in life, a song from a musical
came to mind.

Not just any musical,
but Wicked. Glinda is engaged to
Fiyero and is in the Wizard’s little club and everything is going super well
(at least on paper) and she sings, “That’s why I couldn’t be happier. No, I
couldn’t be happier. Though it is, I admit, the tiniest bit, unlike I
anticipated… ‘Cause getting your dreams, it’s strange but it seems a little,
well, complicated…”

As I sat there thinking
about my life, I couldn’t help but think that there was something true about
her words.

When I was a freshman I
first encountered the Teach for America program and I was very intrigued by the
whole thing. There was something about their mission and their goals that
resonated with me and I wanted to be a part of that change they were seeking,
or “being that change I wish to see in the world,” Gandhi style.

After my mission it was
still an idea, or a dream, or something I couldn’t just let go of, so I gave it
a shot. The interviewing process was an interesting one, because I still felt
completely aligned with their goals, but at the same time I recognized that I
could accomplish the same thing wherever I taught. I realized that I didn’t
necessarily need their organization to fight for opportunities for every
student. But I was still compelled by the TFA group.

When I found out I not
only got accepted, but that I got placed in Boston, I felt like that was too
perfect. I already loved England so much, of course I would love New England!!
I could just picture myself having a Boston tea party with my students as we
read “Johnny Tremain” and other such stuff.#historyandenglisharemylovesinlife #dontforgetshakespeare

And let’s be real- they
have cobblestone streets. Need I say more?

But then, as I think of
the magic of Boston, I also think of the magic of Sunday afternoons at home. The
magic of weddings and birthday parties and baby blessings and family
events—those do get harder with the distance.

I think of the magic of
the job I have now. The magic of great colleagues—colleagues who are my friends
and mentors. I think of the life that my students bring and the thrill when so-and-so
turns in a beautiful essay or such-and-such-person makes a brilliant comment in
class. Can I just walk away from all of that?

Glinda was right
(formerly Galinda, of course). Things get a little complicated sometimes!

But luckily, there are
other musicals to shed a little light on the subject. And this one is even
based on the Bible, so it is, like, even more legit. In the opening of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor
Dreamcoat, the narrator (pronounced with British accent- my students have
quickly learned that I insist on saying that word with the accent every time)
sings, “Some folks dream of the wonders they’ll do before their time on this
planet is through, some folks don’t have anything planned. They hide their
hopes and their heads in the sand…We all dream a lot. Some are lucky, some are
not. But if you think it, want it, dream it, then it’s real…”

And then, you know, she
goes on to tell the story of Joseph. Joseph has got to be one of the most
awesome people in the Old Testament (I would dare even say bible, but I don’t
want to start any controversies). I still love Joshua. But Joseph is great too.
Both favorites.

Joseph is the prime
example of someone with complicated dreams! Get it? Get it? Cuz he, like, had
dreams that were prophetic and stuff?! Moving on…

So, Joseph literally
had complicated dreams, but more importantly, he knew what he was about. He had
this vision of his end goal and what he was supposed to become and he went for
it. And things did not seem to be going his way at all. But that didn’t stop
him. He just kept the faith and kept at it. He took all those lemons and had
some lemonade, and probably some nice lemon meringue pie as well. He wasn’t too
worried, even when he was singing “Close every door to me” he followed that up
with “Children of Israel are never alone.. .for I know I shall find my own
peace of mind…”

He had this positivity
and this faith that helped him make every dream come true, even when it wasn’t
looking very likely.

Recently I have been a
little tempted to think about the fact that dreams can sometimes be a little
complicated. But, I am also going to try to remember that the complications are
what help us actually achieve the end goal we want. Sometimes I get so caught
up in the details, the jobs, the short-term, that I lose sight of the fact that
in the long-term, my goal is more about who
I am than what I am.

Butcher, baker,
candlestick maker. It makes no
difference. My dreams aren’t about positions or places, but rather, about
the person I want to become. The positions and places are just steps in the
process of becoming. Even sometimes a misplaced step, maybe even on a
cobblestone road, could help me more in the process of becoming than a solid
step on a well-known city road would…. That remains to be seen…

But, for now, I’m just
going to keep dreaming my dreams. I’m not going to worry too much about those
complications. After all, “Any dream will do” and “I couldn’t be happier”
because dreams come true and “with God nothing shall be impossible.”

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Sometimes during a “normal” day you find yourself in really
amusing moments. Moments that are just good. Usually they are just small,
little things, but they put a smile on your face. They also might not be that amusing to other people. But to you they are. Like when I found myself with
some fellow missionaries from my mission…

We are all humanities majors (or rather, we all have majors
in the humanities), and we were havin’ a laugh (said with british accent) about
how with our chosen majors, oftentimes we hear the question, “What are you
going to do with that?!” This question makes us feel good. Real good. We
decided that our professors all know we face that question (probably because
they faced it long before we did…), and so they often will remind us the first
day of class (and throughout the courses we take) the ever-important why of studying something in the
humanities. Though often they will remind us that in the humanities, it isn’t
about the money, it is about much, much more. And actually, I must admit, that
as an English teaching major, I don’t
usually face the worst of the critics who want to know what the heck we think
we are going to do when we “grow up.” I do, however, face the worst of the “not
in it for the money” jokes. Not the point.

As our little mission-buddy group, we tried to come up with
some clever ways of responding to that favorite question of ours and as we
talked, we felt very validated as we all decided we were studying about what it
means to be human. Who can say that is
unimportant?! Probably people could. But for the sake of this current blogging
stuff that is happening, we are going to all just pretend that we really
believe that studying the humanities is really important and helps us in life.
And some of us (maybe just me) actually believe that. Some of us might just
pretend. It’s fine. I’m over it.

But anyway… I was reading for a class and I stumbled upon a
really interesting quote that made me think about humans. When I write “humans”
like that (like I just did a few words ago..), it makes it seem like I’m
distancing myself, but I’m not. I’m human too. Proud of it. And proud to be an
American. But that is not the point either. So….this quote I came across made
me think about something that I have been thinking about lately. Curious yet?
Annoyed? Probably annoyed.

Anyway. The quote: “The reason I am obsessed by young girls
is that they are individuals who exist but also do not yet exist. They are
afraid, and they’re strong and weak at the same time. They confront life
violently. They are weak because they do not know who they are going to
become.”

Once you get over the initial shock over somebody admitting
they are “obsessed” with little girls… it’s not what it seems! Promise. This
particular scholar did some analyses on fairy tales and movies and such that
center on little girls as the main characters. Not as creepy as it sounds. Once
we get over that, we can focus on the rest, particularly the ending. I really
liked how her quote ended. “They are weak because they do not know who they are
going to become.”

That weakness isn’t because they don’t know what or when or how or why they are going to become. But they
don’t know who they are going to
become. As I think about that phrase, I can’t help but hear Mufasa’s voice in
my head saying “You have forgotten who you are, and so you have forgotten me…”

In my opinion (in my humble
opinion. That expression always makes me chuckle, because usually when
people use that, they aren’t actually being humble about it and I remember when
I saw this list of ways to abbreviate in texts and there was IMHO and I personally
thought they might want to rethink using that particular abbrevs cuz they were
quite possibly sending the wrong message)… well, actually, on second thought, I
don’t want to state my opinion because in this particular instance, I really
only have my own experience as evidence. So, I guess it would be like stating an
opinion of my own life, which hardly seems necessary. What I really want to say
is this: In my life, I have often let the “other questions” the whats, hows, whys, and whens be governing factors and driving
principles, instead of letting the WHO become
that focus. Maybe other people do that too. Maybe just me.

But I feel like this semester I am learning how to finally
let the other questions go (as important as they can be at times and as much as
they might influence the who), and I’m
trying to focus more on that who. I
don’t know what I want to be or when I’m going to be it, or even how I’m going to get there. But I do know
who I want to be. And because I know that,
it seems like less-of-a-big-deal that I don’t know all the answers to the other
questions. Right? Of course, right! (Name that play!) Okay, well I might not
know all of the details of exactly how to become that who and who that who really is… I might not know all the
specifics. But I know the direction I want to go. And besides, I don’t think we
are necessarily meant to have all the answers.

Just like Lewis Carroll wrote, “Who in the world am I? Ah,
that’s the great puzzle.” A puzzle worth completing, no? But we only complete
it one piece at a time and we can’t cheat and look at the box (I am still a
firm believer in the “no box looking” rule, but lately my mother has gotten all
pansy in her puzzling skills and she totally looks at the box. What is up with
that?!), though sometimes we start to see patterns and stuff that help us get
the right pieces.

So just like the lady who is obsessed with little girls
noted, power comes in remembering the who
of our life. And just like I have declared in wayyyy toooo mannnnyyyy of my
other posts, being an English major really is the best because we get to study
what it means to be human. In an aesthetically pleasing way. At least most of
the time;)

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

You know those moments when you have a significant “first”
and it could potentially be a pretty cool thing, but for you it usually just
ends up being uncomfortable/embarrassing/awkward/all of the above? Yeah, so had
one of those today… in my (just guess which class I’m going to talk about!)
fairy tale seminar, we had the opportunity to go and do a little “radio show”
together. It was for BYU’s program, the Appleseed. Sounds cool, right? We were
going to talk about “defining moments.” And obviously a lot of defining moments
of my life, I don’t really feel the necessity nay desire to share with random
people on the radio… this made it even more difficult to find the right moment
to share. I’m not really good at the serious/sweet/sentimental moments but I’m
also not one of those like “funny people” that can share a story about a
shoelace and be funny. I had to think hard about what moment was the right mix
of clever, slightly inspiring, not too personal, but not too sappy. Finally,
the right moment came to mind… a moment that I couldn’t believe I had almost
forgotten because it was truly a ridiculous moment of my life. But the part
that made it not-so-cool and not-so-great, is that I was the only person who
wrote mine down… because apparently I’m that
student. The guy at the radio place even was like, “So I can’t help but
notice you wrote yours down… why?” I told him it was because I was worried that
if I didn’t have some notes I would be too worried about A) reliving my karaoke
days with the mic so dangerously close and B)waxing loquacious because I am an
English major and we love our words..

And I feel a little guilty right now that I’m using this
time to write a blog post… because I have a lot of “actual” writing to do. “Academic”
writing or something like that. A lot of times when I have big writing
assignments due (like every week), I find myself wanting to engage in various
activities like blogging (or sometimes I read things for class because I tell
myself they will help “stimulate” my brain… never works…). I always thought
these were like “avoidance tactics” but this semester I have actually
discovered that some people consider such writing not just avoidance, but as a legitimate writing strategy. All those years of guilt-blogging ended because suddenly,
research has justified my blogging. Sometimes in order to write, you gotta
clear the mind a little bit, get rid of distractions and sort out those
cluttered boxes of the mind. And sometimes blogging just helps me do that. I
write this to appease my guilty conscience… but I also believe it is mostly
true. Which is slightly more positive than being mostly dead… I have also made
some bold moves this week and removed myself from the dark and cold confines of
the library and have taken to hunchbacking-it-up (and yes I did just make that
a verb) in the nice weather on the top of the JFSB. Also a convenient location
if the writing goes horribly… I won’t elaborate on that one, but if you catch
the twisted humor, points to you. Perhaps your heart is as black as mine…

Enjoy it or don’t, but this is the moment I shared on the
radio!

When I heard we were going to be talking about defining
moments, I immediately went to dictionary.com, the fount of all wisdom and
knowledge. Yeah, so I’m that kind of a person. You know, the kind that gets
assigned some topic and then immediately looks up the definition. I speak for
the other people like me in saying that I think we do it in the hopes that
something we read about a word or phrase we have long-known will suddenly help
our brain come up with lots of different and really awesome things to say.
Usually, it does not happen like that, but as I looked up “defining moments” I
did actually like what I read and being the type of person that looks things up
in the dictionary, I’m also the type to share what I learned, which is the
following, a defining moment is “a point in which the essential nature or
character of a person is revealed or identified or an occurrence that typifies
or determines all related events that follow.”

I like the part that mentioned these moments often “reveal”
who we already are. And as I think about all of that, I find myself remembering
this funeral I went to when I was younger. It was the funeral of my mom’s
second cousin, or second uncle or something like that. My fake uncle, perhaps.
She promised we were related, but I wasn’t so sure, considering our contact
with “Uncle ron” had been very minimal. Lack of depth in our relationship,
however, did not hinder my mother in begging me to please go with her to this
funeral. And as the ever-dutiful daughter, I went. And it is a good thing I
did. Because partway through the services, Uncle Ronnie’s friend got up, guitar
in hand, and sang a tearful version of “Wind beneath my wings.” In that moment
I realized that there are two kinds of people in this world: those that sing “Wind
beneath my wings” ά la Bette Midler in tough moments and those that don’t.

Fast forward a few more years and I was a junior in high
school. Uncle Ronnie was long gone, and I found myself running for student body
president. I was wearing a blue cowboy hat and dressed in as much orange and
blue as you could possibly imagine (those were, of course, our school colors)
and I was participating in an unusual form of torture called “the elections
assembly.” This is a form of humiliation designed by the current student
government to publicly haze the potentials for the future student government to
see how far they are willing to go to win the election. After participating in
a number of really inspirational skits and things, I listened as the current
president announced to the entire school that the other candidate for president
and I would then be given a few minutes for an impromptu speech. With my cowboy
hat and all, I found out quickly that of those two types of people, I was the
kind that sang ‘wind beneath my wings” little or no resemblance to Bette Midler
in tough situations. I sometimes wonder if the current president has since had
such a personal and public rendition of that song…

Just as dictionary.com says, these defining moments are
those that “reveal the essential character of a person” and I had just revealed
myself as the type of person that First) maybe has no shame and second) will do
just about anything, no matter how ridiculous, to help me reach my dreams.
Despite my awful singing voice, and that embarrassing display, I won the
election and then had many more such opportunities to display my shamelessness.
I will always be very closet proud that I helped capes come back that year.
Don’t worry, the cape was a spirit cape. I think of this moment and the words
of Sinbad, and that would be Sinbad the comedian, not the legendary sailor,
“there’s no one defining moment that kills you or makes you.” And I look
forward to a lot more shenanigans and absurd moments in my life, with or
without a cowboy hat, as I try to dream big and reach for the stars….

And then I sat down so that (like I said before) I wouldn’t
be tempted to start singing “Wind beneath my wings” in a very dramatic manner…
Also, just a sidenote for those who didn’t know me in high school, I feel it
only fair to clarify that I really did wear a cape, but it was TOTALLY COOL. If
you don’t believe me, I have pictures to prove it. Though I probably shouldn’t
admit that either…

Friday, February 14, 2014

Elizabeth: Of a
fine stout love, it may. But if it is only a vague inclination I’m convinced
one poor sonnet will kill it stone dead.

Not untrue. And perfect set-up for a great zing on Elizabeth's part. Or a "zing-back," if you will (if you don't know what I'm talking about, you should probs go watch Pride&Prej). I don’t think I have ever had this exact experience as described by Elizabeth, what with the “vague
inclination” and the guy writing lousy poetry. But one time there was this guy
who would write little “sweet nothings” on tennis balls and put them in my
backpack because he knew I played tennis… I figure that is similar to the whole
“bad poetry” thing… it had the same negative outcome,
but like I said.. he didn’t even have “vague inclination” going for him…

So anyway, back to the Darcy and Elizabeth dialogue... this week I encountered some
really awesome “love poetry” in one of my classes and it was too good to not
share. I was chuckling wholeheartedly, even guffawing, at these. And I will
also include some that were actually just sweet. Or, at least, I thought they
were sweet. I would also just like to say that the professor that wrote/shared
these poems is probably one of the best people to ever walk the face of this
earth. I am a huge fan and I am also grateful that he is letting me share some
of his work. He
likes to write poetry for a genre called “Bad” where you write awful poems that
are awful because they shamelessly abuse the normal poetic rules and styles
etc. As opposed to “bad” poetry where you are just trying to be good and fail
miserably. Both can be entertaining. He is also very good at writing clerihews. And lots of other things. Just for the record.

(and if you slowly get bored with the poems, at least just skip down to the bottom, cuz my favorite poem is at the end! and since i know you guys all care about my favorite poem....)

The first one is a special genre called “Zombie
Haiku”

REGRET

When you gave
me your

heart,
valentine, you should have

known I was
hungry

Tell me that isn’t some quality valentines
poetry?!!!

Now, this next one is more akin to the “tennis-balls-in-backpack”
scenario:

SARAN WRAP

Fifth grade.

School lunch.

I was PB&J
on whole

Wheat

You were
Twinkies and Velveeta

Cheese.

When I wasn’t
looking you stole my heart with

ease.

All I wanted
to do was

Eat,

But you
filched my love without even a

Please.

Turned out
you, you were a pernicious

cheat,

Just like
cellophane on a blustery day.

For all the guys of the world…

ENTICER

A married man
who begs his friend,

A bachelor, to
wed and end

His lonesome, sorry state,

Is like a
bather in the sea,

Goose-pimpled,
blue from neck to knee,

Who cries, “The water’s great!”

Just some lovin' goodness here…

AMOR-A

How can the
heart be an organ?

It’s got no
keyboard.

No foot
pedals.

No music
stand.

It can’t play
a hymn or a jazzy tune.

But, my dear,
my heart has rhythm,

and it beats
for you.

I’ll admit, this one is a little sketch, but I thought
it was just sketch enough to be entertaining. And it is Stephen Crane. It
remind me of Miss Havisham in a way, and she has long been a hero of mine… “BROKEN!”
(Name that classic Dickens novel!!)

THE HEART

In the desert

I saw a
creature, naked, bestial,

Who, squatting
upon the ground,

Held his heart
in his hands,

And ate of it.

I said, “Is it
good, friend?”

“It is bitter –bitter,”
he answered;

“But I like it

Because it is
bitter,

And because it
is my heart.”

And on that note… I figure it is probably about time
for some “nice” poems, eh?

I thought this was really sweet.

ME FIRST

Knowing that a
thousand years

are but a day
in God’s reckoning,

can you blame
me, Love,

for selfishly
hoping to go first?

That way, I’ll
endure only

seconds,

not years,

without you.

Or how about this classic from Emily Dickinson.

Heart, We
Will Forget Him

Heart, we will
forget him,

You and I,
tonight!

You must
forget the warmth he gave,

I will forget
the light.

When you have
done pray tell me,

Then I, my
thoughts will dim.

Haste! ‘lest
while you’re lagging

I may remember
him!

This last one has long been a favorite. I’m not
usually a big fan of metaphysical poetry, but John Donne wrote this for his
wife, Anne. If I remember correctly, he was travelling and would be away for
some time…. and he uses a drafting compass as a comparison for their love.